Chapter 5
Sue was strangely quiet during breakfast out on the sun terrace. At first John thought she was beginning to think about chickening out on the ski lessons, but when he asked if she was worried about getting on the slopes she had answered with an emphatic shake of her head.
She really looks great, John thought, like a god-damned movie actress! And those ski pants fitting snugly on her rounded buttocks were almost as sexy as that new black peignoir she bought for the trip. Her breasts pushed against the bulky red and white ski sweater, and there was absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind at all that those were all hers-no padding and probably no bra, either.
John had seen several males gazing in open speculation at her, with a couple of men doing a double take, as though they thought they knew her from the television or something... or thought they should know her. That pleased him, knowing he owned the best piece of merchandise in a place that was simply packed to the gunnels with ("lass A, number one premium talent. "Kat your hearts out, you poor unfortunate bastards," John said to himself, smirking. "This is one female you'll have to speculate about, because you'll never-not in a hundred years-get your pecker in there. That's my territory."
Sue seemed oblivious to the open stares of admiration. She absent-mindedly stirred her coffee, and John realized then that something was really bothering her because she never used sugar or cream, so she was merely contemplating the spoon and cup. "Honey," he said, and received no answer from her. "Darling!" It was said sharper this time, and she looked up and blinked.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
She smiled at him, a closed-mouth smile without too much humor in it, but lots of love and affection. She stared at him, and John was forced to ask again, "What's wrong? Aren't you feeling well?"
Wordlessly she shook her head to indicate she was okay, then she carefully put her spoon in the saucer and took a deep breath. "John... do you remember once... my telling you about my father's brother and his family-the Morgans?"
"Yeh! Sure. Your late Uncle Rod and Rod, Junior? Junior is the jet-setter isn't he?"
She shrugged. "All I know about Rod-Junior-is what I read in the newspaper clippings that Aunt Martha sends me once in a while."
"Well... what about Junior?"
She smiled patiently. "His name, darling, is Rod... not Junior. His father's dead."
"Junior-schmoonyer. He's your cousin. Right?"
"Yes." She stared past him, watching a girl doing pirouettes on the ice skating rink. "What would you think about my calling him? He lives here." Then glancing at him, she continued more rapidly, eagerly, "Maybe we could get together with him and have cocktails."
John hesitated. He didn't know anything about Rod except that he didn't have to work and spent most of his time chasing around the world-following the sun or the snow-and surrounding himself with what the newspaper society columnists like to call "The Beautiful People." He thought about it, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of getting involved with family while he was on vacation. Then, uncaring, he shrugged. "Whatever you want to do."
She brightened. "You really wouldn't mind?"
"If it will make you happy, go right ahead."
Now Sue's eagerness was an evident thing. "I'll call him. Maybe he isn't here now. If he is... and if he invites us to anything... what shall I say?"
"Well, love, if you call him, you'd seem a bit of a shit if you didn't accept any invitation."
Sue glanced about her furtively, appearing embarrassed, "John... your language."
He laughed and stood. "Do whatever you want. Me? I'm going skiing." He paused, staring down boldly at her breasts and at the unconcealable Y where her lime green nylon ski pants came together at the junction of her thighs. He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively a couple of times. "F... ah... could be persuaded to... ah... go later. After a little exercise?"
Sue blushed and gazed apprehensively around her again. "John! Go... skiing." Then she dimpled, "That will be ready for you when you come back."
He suddenly became very serious. "Take it easy on the 'bunny slope,' love. I wouldn't want you in a cast; that would probably mean no dancing or anything."
"Don't worry, I'll be careful," she promised.
Twenty minutes later, John was tightening the quick-release bindings on his Head skis and preparing to hop aboard the chairlift which went to the top of one of the intermediate ski runs. He planned to try this slope a couple of times this morning and gradually work his way over to the most difficult run of all.
He swung into the line, waiting for an available chair to swing down. A well-packaged little blonde, wearing a cossack fur hat and a really tight-fitting red jump suit, swung into line opposite him. They grinned companionably at each other. "Not bad," John mentally intoned. "A fine constructed little piece, that. About eighteen-needs educating. Probably fucks like a rabbit, but doesn't have any idea of the finer aspects of screwing."
The lift attendant grabbed the chair as it moved around the cable housing and held up the bar. John and the girl quickly moved into the load line. The chair began moving, hit the back of their knees-causing them to sit-and the bar was locked into place by the attendant. Then they were swinging free of the ground.
"First time today?" John asked, casually inspecting the girl out of the corner of his eye. She did have a nice cuddlesome little figure. Tits were okay-not half as good as Sue's, but acceptable. And a nice rounded little ass that just begged for a kneading.
"Oh... I've been out since eight this morning," she answered, staring boldly and openly at him. "Might as well get up and out early; those idiots at the Inn won't let you sleep after six anyway."
"Too bad," John said, a trifle absent-mindedly, because their thighs were pressed together and he could feel the heat of the girl's body through his own clothes. They had sat down together this way, and although there was room for either of them to move, the girl showed no inclination to separate. So... what the hell, he thought.
The girl pointed suddenly up the hill toward a black speck hurdling down the hill. "That's Tony Fitzgerald. The idiot. He's going too fast for this slope; the shadows are pretty badly iced through that one area up there. He has a suicide complex, I think," she said, half seriously.
John grinned. "Not me, though. Where's home?" he asked, suddenly changing the conversation.
"Home's San Francisco. But I go to Stanford."
John mentally said to himself, "And I'll bet you're a freshman and you're majoring in English." Then aloud, he asked, "What year? What are you studying?"
"Freshman. I'm taking as many English courses as I can. Where's home for you?"
"San Francisco."
"Small world! Where are you staying here?" She asked it directly, without coyness. "At the Lodge."
"Neat. I wish I could afford to stay there." She made a half grimace. "I'm in the dorm at the Inn. What I wouldn't give just to sit by a fireplace and a chance to take a shower or soak in a tub without a bunch of other girls around!" Then she tossed out the question John would have been willing to bet a thousand dollars that she was going to ask. "Do you have a fireplace?"
He nodded, waiting, amused, knowing he was about to be propositioned by this very sexy little girl. And together with the amusement there was a feeling of regret at having to let her go away unscrewed by him. She probably wouldn't be much of a fuck compared to his wife and Dorothy, but she was fresh and eager... and almost anything he did with her would be new and wring squeals of delight from her. That would be fun! But impossible.
She pursed her lips, and inspected his figure from top to skis. "A fireplace. A nice hot tub. Some people have all the luck. And I suppose you have a wife... with you?"
John sighed. "I'm afraid so."
She shrugged. "Too bad... "
They had reached the top of the lift and, released from their chair, the girl simply dug in with her poles and went slooshing off down the slope.
John watched her figure fade and then disappear altogether as she traversed in back of a line of timber. He wondered once again, as he had so many times in the last six months, why it was that he no longer was satisfied with just one woman. If he had thought there was any chance of moving this little blonde cunt into the Lodge and his being able to get away with it without Sue finding out, he would not have hesitated a second. It would have been worth the couple of hundred bucks. And he knew also that he would have screwed her into the mattress like she had never been screwed before, and he would have fucked her morning, noon and night. But... no sense in bitching about things you can't change...
He bent and checked his bindings once again, then began the long downward trek.